


It'll be fun. Trust me.

by BlueRobinWrites



Series: Strellacott Fictober 2019 [1]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Dinner, F/M, Fictober 2019, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 03:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20846576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRobinWrites/pseuds/BlueRobinWrites
Summary: LulaIsAKitten invited us to try our hand at Fictober this year...This is the first entry of mine in that.I wrote this while working a desk at a tradeshow...So hopefully it flows. I didn't read back over it. Didn't edit it. Just wrote it and am throwing it up here. Let me know if it needs anything. I'll try to come back and edit later.





	It'll be fun. Trust me.

**Author's Note:**

> LulaIsAKitten invited us to try our hand at Fictober this year...This is the first entry of mine in that. 
> 
> I wrote this while working a desk at a tradeshow...So hopefully it flows. I didn't read back over it. Didn't edit it. Just wrote it and am throwing it up here. Let me know if it needs anything. I'll try to come back and edit later.

Strike groaned quietly as he watched her walk away. These days he felt like groaning anytime he was around his partner. He was almost positive she didn’t know that though. He’d tried so hard to hide it.

He was afraid he might be failing though.

In the last week alone, they’d had dinner together after work every night, save one.

They’d gone to dinner with Nick and Ilsa on Friday.

Then Saturday they’d both had surveillance and had both ended up back at the office around the same time, so they’d popped down to The Tottenham for a drink, that had turned into dinner.

Sunday, they hadn’t seen each other, but Robin had texted him an article about one of their targets and they’d ended up talking on the phone for two hours that evening. He’d never before enjoyed talking on the phone to anyone as much as he’d enjoyed talking to her. Her quiet laugh and the fact that he could sense that she was snuggled up in bed with her laptop on her lap…He’d enjoyed trying to imagine what she might sleep in.

Monday he’d woken up ashamed of himself over the dream he’d had, wherein he’d slid his hand beneath mint green lace to find smooth skin and the sweetest flavor. He’d spent most of the day out of the office but returned around 7 to find her at her desk, chopsticks in hand, and crispy duck waiting for him on the counter.

Tuesday they’d had an appointment with a client who’d asked to meet them both in a coffee shop around the corner from his office. Robin had slipped her arm through his companionably as they’d walked toward the Tube station, chattering away about the client’s request and how they might go about managing it. As they’d taken their seats on the way back to Tottenham Station, she’d turned to him, eyes sparkling and said, “Hungry?” And they’d strolled into the nearest diner and continued discussing the new case.

Wednesday they’d staked out a warehouse. Ordinarily Robin would pack their snacks but that night they’d ended up sharing a huge bowl of spag bol that Robin had packed in the back of the Land Rover. When she’d pulled it out, he’d laughed, but she’d just smiled and handed him a fork before passing the bowl to him for a bite. They’d spent that evening handing the bowl back and forth, chatting quietly as they kept an eye on the doors and windows of the warehouse, watching for their mark to make his move. He’d never in his life have thought that sharing a bowl of spaghetti, in the front seat of a Land Rover, while staking out a potential drug deal, would be remotely sexy to him, but by the time they’d finished and she’d driven him home, he’d been nearly overwhelmed with the need to kiss her.

Thursday, last night, Robin had had late surveillance and he’d ended up working late in his office, putting together their notes on the warehouse stakeout and trying to convince himself that he wasn’t waiting for her. But he knew he was. When she’d texted him that she was on her way back he’d sent back only, “Hungry?” When she’d replied in the affirmative, he’d informed her that he’d ordered pizza. She’d arrived back at the office fifteen minutes later, rosy cheeked and wrapped up tightly against the cold, and he’d gone upstairs and grabbed the bottle of chardonnay he’d bought ages ago, with the intention of giving it to her for her birthday, and a wine glass and they’d had wine, beer and pizza while she told him about her surveillance.

When they’d finished, she’d walked to the coat rack and started bundling herself up again while he’d started gathering the dishes and wine bottle and glass. She’d buttoned her coat as she’d walked across the room to where he stood at her desk. While his hands had been full of dishes and a pizza box she’d tiptoed up, laying a hand on his shoulder for balance, and kissed his cheek, just above where his bear was growing in. “Thanks for dinner Cormoran. The wine was wonderful.” Her voice had been just slightly above a whisper.

“You’re welcome. You’ve had dinner waiting for me a few times,” he’d shrugged, almost toppling the wine glass he’d balanced on the plates in his left hand. “I figured it was about time I paid you back.”

“Would you like to do it again tomorrow?” she’d asked. “Dinner, I mean?”

“Um…” They’d never really preplanned these things before.

“I’m in the office late tomorrow for a meeting with Sam about next week.” She’d stepped back but had allowed her hand to trail down his arm. “But if you want, I can meet you somewhere after.” He’d felt his head nod, though he’d not realized that’s what he’d been planning to do. “Or,” and she stepped closer to him, “We could order in again.”

“Um, sure, which would you prefer?” he’d asked, flummoxed and starting to panic. Had she been flirting?

“Why don’t I just meet you here and we’ll see what happens?”

“Sure.” He’d almost given himself a concussion with the force of his nodding at that. “Great.”

And now…here they were. She’d just walked away and down the stairs to meet the delivery man, leaving him aching for her.

She was wearing jeans and a soft blue jumper that was cut low enough to show her collarbones and most of her sternum. As always, she smelled like a garden. Her hair was braided to one side, though some strands had come loose and had been tucked behind her ear, occasionally falling in her face, only to be tucked back again.

She was enchanting and alluring and everything he wanted.

“Here we are!” she announced as she came through the door, arms laden with bags. “I hope this new place is good.” She paused and looked at him. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah. Sure…” There went the nodding again. Maybe he had concussed himself.

“Oh. Well…This should be fun. I love trying new places.”

“I’m just not so sure about Italian/Asian fusion,” he said wryly.

“Oh come on…worst case we hate it and we chuck it all in the bin and go to the chippy. But let’s give it a try first. It’ll be fun. Trust me.” She twinkled at him over her desk as she unpacked the bags.

And an hour later he had to agree. He hadn’t expected Crab Ravioli Rangoon to be so good, but it had been.

And now she was sitting cross legged on the couch, just one cushion over from him, facing him. Her wine glass almost empty and the bottle drained, her eyes glowing behind the sparkle and tempting him beyond reason.

“Cormoran?” Her voice was quiet.

He blinked and realized he’d been staring at her lips. “Yeah?”

“Were you still hungry?”

“No.”

“OK.”

She set her glass on the floor and stood up, stretching so that the bottom of her jumper rose above the waistband of her jeans, revealing a small strip of pale skin, for just a moment.

He licked his lips.

She moved to her desk and started gathering the empty boxes and cartons together and putting them in the bag to take to the trash. “Can I ask you something?” Her back was to him, her face hidden. But the tone of her voice told him this wasn’t a casual question.

He stood up and picked up her glass from the floor, carrying it, the empty wine bottle and his empty beer bottle to the kitchenette where he deposited them on the counter. “You know you can.”

“When are you going to kiss me?”

He stopped and swung around, “I’m sorry?” Her face was composed, but her fingers were twisting the handles of the carrying bag she’d filled with the remnants of their dinner.

“I just wondered.”

“You…Kiss?”

“Yes. Because I’d really like it if you would.” She tucked her hair behind her ear again.

“Really?” He was rooted to the floor. “You…”

She leaned back against the edge of her desk, crossing her arms across her chest. “Yes. Really.” She sighed and pushed away from the desk, moving toward him. “I’ve kept waiting for you to do it…but you never do. And I’m tired of waiting.”

“You’ve been waiting?”

“Yes.”

“For me to kiss you.”

“Yes Cormoran.”

“But…I didn’t…”

“For such a bloody great detective you sure are terrible at figuring out that I’m attracted to you.”

“You are?” He swallowed. He was pretty sure it was audible. What was happening?

She was right in front of him. Her hand lifting to the buttons of his shirt, but her head was slightly bowed.

“Well…yes.” She chuckled. “It seems I am.”

Her eyes met his and before he could take his next breath his lips were on hers.

Her hand fisted in his shirt as the other lifted, her fingers sliding through his curls. Her mouth opened beneath his and he took full advantage, only to moan desperately as she sucked lightly on his tongue.

“Fuck Robin,” he breathed as he broke away, pulling her tightly to him and resting his chin on her head. “God.”

“You OK?”

“I’m so far past OK. I’m…” He cupped his hand under her chin, tilting her face to his. “I’m fucking overwhelmed.”

“Oh.” Her eyes clouded with confusion and a tinge of uncertainty.

“But in the best way.” And he lowered his lips to hers again, fingers stroking the side of her neck, thumb tracing along her collarbone as she arched into him with a soft sigh.

When his alarm went off at eight the following morning, he opened his eyes to find a red gold head resting on his arm. He slapped the alarm off and buried his nose in Robin’s neck as she stroked the back of his head. “I told you it’d be fun.”


End file.
